Kingdom of Ash

got word of Morath marching on us,” his
father said, his smile mocking and cold. “I
should have burned them, of course, but
something prompted me to save them instead.
For this exact moment, I think.”
The trunk was piled thick with letters. All
written by his mother. To him. “How long,”
he said too quietly.
“From the day you left.” His father’s sneer
lingered.
Years. Years of letters, from a mother he
had not heard from, had believed hadn’t
wanted to speak to him, had yielded to his
father’s wishes.
“You let her believe I didn’t write back,”
Chaol said, surprised to find his voice still
calm. “You never sent them, and let her
believe I didn’t write back.”
His father shut the trunk and locked it
again. “It would appear so.”